


Moving Day

by quantumvelvet



Category: Wayward Children Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumvelvet/pseuds/quantumvelvet
Summary: Her apprenticeship ended, it's time for Jack to establish a household of her own.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Moving Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geekhyena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekhyena/gifts).



The tower that looms above Jack is large and imposing, and somehow sly – there will be secrets here, she's certain, puzzles left by those who came before. It's a part of the continuity of the Moors, the master and the apprentice, the abandoned and the found. The tower is a far cry from the windmill in which she'd served her own apprenticeship, learned the secrets of blood and bone, of life and lightning. It's a far cry, too, from the castle in which the Master had dwelt, and that's the only reason that she doesn't turn on her heel and hike back down to the village below. Almost the only reason. They want her here – the food and blankets and firewood they'd been quick to tell her had been sent up in preparation for her arrival is proof enough of that – but not too close. She understands that well enough to take most of the sting out. She'd learned her craft and her code too well to bring harm to the innocent, but she's an unknown. Some of her work is dangerous. The attention she's bound to bring upon her tower is more so. It will take time for her to prove to the villagers how she intends to handle both hazards, and until she does, her skills will be more welcome than she is.

For a brief moment, she allows herself to miss the life she's left behind, Dr. Bleak and the village in the Master's shadow and the camaraderie of the people who knew her. Her departure had been a necessity – the Master might have tolerated Dr. Bleak taking apprentices, but two fully-trained doctors in the village would not be borne. One balanced his authority, life against death, trust against fear. Two would challenge it. One of those two being Jack, who had refused his hospitality, left the Moors, and returned with a sister rendered immune to his ownership _before_ the end of her training might break it entirely. Still, the loss of the place and people she'd loved is a bruise behind her breastbone, balanced only by the fact that she retains the _work_ she loves.

Behind her, her guide shuffles his feet nervously, and she gives herself a mental shake, striding forward to insert the large bronze key to the tower – the metal strangely warm even through her gloves – into the lock and tug the door open. “Just bring the trunks inside,” she directs the man. “I'll unpack myself. I know where everything needs to be.”

The look of relief on his face as she turns back to help with shifting her luggage out of the cart is almost comical. Night comes on quickly in the Moors – as true in these winter-haunted mountains as it had been below – and it's clear the thought of waiting out the dark with her in the tower is beyond the limits of the man's bravery.

The look of shock on his face when she hefts the first of the trunks and carries it inside is more than just  _almost_ comical, and it's all she can do to keep from laughing.

* * *

Once her belongings have been moved inside, she has a little time to explore the tower in the waning light of day. She finds the master bedroom, the space she will use for her laboratory, the well-lit rooms she will use to grow her plants and house her books, and three walls she's certain hold the entrance to hidden rooms and passageways, which will be invaluable once she discovers the trick to opening them. She discovers the oil lamps have been filled, and lights herself a fire to begin the process of driving out the chill that has seeped deep into the stones in the time the tower has been empty. It's summer below, but Dr. Bleak had warned her before setting out that in the mountains, the winter never truly flees. It's more than just a season here – it rules this rocky land the way the Master and his ilk rule their villages, and its vessels may be more elusive than the vampire lords, but are no less dangerous.

“They may be more so,” he'd told her the night before she'd set out, but had refused to elaborate on that statement, saying only that she would need to strike her own accord with the powers in the mountains.

It might have been easier to settle in another village below – far enough not to threaten the Master, but near enough to be familiar with the rules of the place. But she needs the challenge, and more than that, she needs to find her sister. Jill had fled nearly as soon as she'd recovered from her resurrection, and the last whispers Jack heard had painted her as searching the mountains for the Lords of Winter, in hopes that  _they_ might transform her as the Master no longer could. And it's not entirely impossible – resurrection by lightning is a kind of resurrection by fire, but there's a chance it may not count, and all the reasons Jill should never be allowed to become a vampire hold for any other sort of immortal.

Not, Jack suspects, that her sister is likely to please the Lords the same way she pleased the Master. The mountains serve a different sort of hunger, one not chained behind the mask of civilization.

Outside, as the sun dips below the horizon, a wolf howls.

* * *

Her sleep that night is troubled. She dreams of a maze of roses carved of ice, petals stained the red of frozen blood. She knows somehow, in the way of dreams, that those petals are as sharp as razors, that others have passed this way before her, and have been drained dry when an incautious step had brought them into the grasp of the icy briars. Even dreaming, this intrigues more than repels her – what might she learn from these flowers? What possibilities might their impossibility open before her? But there's no time to tarry, and her feet carry her onward unbidden, deeper into the spiraling maze. A mournful howl sounds ahead, urging her onward, spurring her towards--

The sun slanting through a thin gap in the curtains pulls her back to waking before she can discover what lies at the centre of the maze. She blinks her way awake, wincing a little as her sleep-gummed lashes pull apart. Around her, the walls are coated with frost, with delicate trailing designs mimicking the shape of climbing roses.

A dark strip runs along one wall, the frost highlighting a door she'd missed in her initial exploration. No hint as to how to open it – but what would the fun be in that?

The village below may yet be uncertain, but the tower, at least, is willing to welcome her home.


End file.
